


Under The Desk

by CaliBDiamond



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliBDiamond/pseuds/CaliBDiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smut. <br/>Smut in response to a Kink!Meme I saw linked on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Desk

They’re going to get caught one of these days, but Tony couldn’t care less. He growls at the way she tugs at his hair when he’s biting his way up the inside of her thigh, and grips her knees with bruising force to ensure that she doesn’t try to snap them closed around his head again. The way she tries to stifle her whimpers while wriggling her ass around in her chair in some sorry attempt to keep him from getting to the flesh between her legs only spurs him on. As he’s licking along the top of one thigh, he can hear her muttering that the office door isn’t locked and that someone could hear them. He ignores her. He always ignores her.

Reaching up, he curls his hands around her hips and pulls her until her ass is perched on the edge of the seat; he’s silently glad that she got rid of the damned rolling chair. It made things so difficult. He chuckles when he feels her trying to brace her feet on the back of the desk, and ducks his shoulders beneath the undersides of her knees to support her legs. Looking up, he smiles at Syriana through the inch of space between her and the edge of the desk, and dips his head to taste her.

He waits for the brunette to react to the slow drag of his tongue over her clit, running over the same path again and again until he hears her choke on a moan and slam a hand down on the desk.

“ _Tony,_ ” she almost sounds angry, like she’s _actually_ upset that he snuck into the office and hid under the desk to eat her out. She always acts as though it’s the first time they’ve ever played this game; pretends to be stubborn, unwilling, _nervous_. Maybe that’s the part that thrills him the most and keeps him coming back again and again. “ _Stop_ ,”

He doesn’t dignify the command with the response that she wants. Instead, he nudges closer, parting her legs even more with his shoulders, and angles her hips in a way that restricts her wriggling, but steps up the pleasure a couple of notches. He takes his time, lavishing every last bit of slick flesh with hard presses of his tongue. He nibbles at her clit occasionally, and then draws it between his lips to suck until he can hear her scratching her nails over the surface of the desk. The hand that had been pushing against his forehead, is now gripping the back of his head while she grinds herself against his mouth and struggles to keep her cries as quiet as possible.

Not acceptable. He wants her screaming loud enough to draw attention. Shifting under the desk, Tony shrugs one of the brunette’s legs from his shoulder and curls his arm around the one that remains. Smoothing his hand along her thigh, he brings his fingers up to lightly part the flesh he’s feasting on and slips his tongue as deep as he can get it. He knows the writhing brunette won’t be able to take much more before she’s shouting out how good it feels, and he knows that he really _could_ do this all day if she wants to be particularly stubborn.

The sting of her nails against the back of his neck have Tony pressing two fingers into her cunt, tongue lashing and swirling over her clit as he flicks his gaze up to look at her. She’s gorgeous when she’s coming apart like this; that stern, nerdy outer layer of hers seems to just crack and fade away to bring out the wanton little sex kitten he knows her to be. From the flush on her cheeks to the sweat that trickles down her thighs, and the way she’s simultaneously yanking at him and shoving him away like she can’t make up her mind; it all just turns him on so fucking much that he can’t stand himself.

“Tony,” her voice is climbing in pitch and her thighs keep tensing against his cheeks. Smirking as much as he can, he curls the fingers he has inside of her, and rubs the tips against a spot on the highest wall of her cunt. It takes two strokes before Syriana arches her hips out of the seat and lets out a shaky sounding moan that fills the small space of the office. If he could grin, he would, and he’d do it smugly. Fucking her hard with his fingers, he pays special attention to that little spot, and continues his ravenous licking until she’s kicking her legs under the desk and tears the collar of his shirt with one good yank.

She’s going to end up falling out of the chair if she isn’t careful, but Tony’s sure she probably wouldn’t care. Not if he kept this up. She’s squeezing his head with her thighs, getting wetter and hotter with every pump and lick, and the gibberish she’s spewing to the empty room is starting to become breathless and unintelligible. But she’s _still_ not screaming the way he wants her to. He knows she’s holding back for the sake of not getting caught and losing her job, and that bothers him. Slowing the strokes of his tongue, he keeps up the fast pace of his fingers until he starts to feel her tightening up, then withdraws them altogether. Before she has the chance to protest, he’s pressing his face to her cunt again. Licking and sucking and putting every last bit of effort into his administrations, he grasps her thighs tightly to hold her in place.

He glances up just in time to see her roll her eyes back into her head and let out a string of swear-filled praise as her body goes taut in the chair. Then, her entire body shivers and she’s _finally_ letting out the screams of pleasure he’d been waiting for. He continues working her over with his mouth until she swats him away and kicks her foot against the back of the desk. He knows better than to continue right away; she’ll rip the hair right out of his head if he even dares to give one last kiss to her sticky flesh. So, he pulls away and waits for her to straighten herself before she pushes the chair back to let him crawl out.

She’s flushed and panting and he can see her nipples poking through the layers of clothing she has on, but she’s giving him this narrow eyed look like he’s in trouble. But Tony only smiles at her and leans in to steal a kiss, groaning when the brunette grabs hold of the front of his shirt and damn near jams her tongue down his throat. The groan gets louder as she drops the hand to the hard-on in his slacks and gives him a few good squeezes and a rather _thorough_ rubbing. Then she pulls away completely and turns to tuck her chair back under the desk, fixing her hair wordlessly as she tries not to smirk at him in the reflection cast on her dark computer screen.

Handing him the newspaper that sits on the edge of her desk, Syri barely turns her head to look at him, “Happy should have the car waiting outside. Go. Cover yourself with that and I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Tony snorts, taking the newspaper to try and figure out a way to hide his erection so he can walk through HQ.

“No,” Syri laughs, turning her computer on. “I won’t. But I will see you tonight. Now, _shoo_.”

Tony pretends to be annoyed at being tossed out of the office, but it’s all part of the game. He knows that when she gets back to the Tower after work –and after she _checks in_ with Steve-, she’ll go ahead and have her way with him for as long as she likes. Honestly, he can’t _wait_.


End file.
